Stay (And Make My Heart Fly)
by Lady Dudley
Summary: The Final Problem AU: What if Molly didn't pick up the phone? Mild angst.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I was thinking about _Sherlock_ the other day (as you do) and wondered what would have happened if Molly hadn't answered the phone and this is my answer. Not quite how I intended, but hope you enjoy it anyway :) I took the title from the Proclaimers' song "Make My Heart Fly". **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

 _ **Stay (And Make My Heart Fly)**_

 _"Okay, okay. Just one more time."  
"Come on, Molly, pick up. Just bloody pick up."_

She didn't.

Mycroft, John and Sherlock flinched as a large explosion suddenly filled the screen.

Sherlock barely registered the shocked reactions of his companions as he stared at the static that only moments before had shown Molly making tea in her kitchen.

She was gone.

" _So many days not lived, so many words unsaid."_

Eurus's words came back to haunt him as he swallowed thickly, still staring at the screen. He blinked as it was suddenly filled with his sister's face.

"Well, that was a little unexpected," she commented idly, "if only she'd answered her phone." She paused, "Still, onwards and upwards," she added brightly, "shall we continue?"

A door slid open, Mycroft regarded it warily but John continued to watch Sherlock carefully.

Slowly, Sherlock turned away from the screen and walked towards the back of the room.

"Sherlock?" Eurus prompted.

He ignored her as he came to a stop in front of the coffin lid, staring at the words engraved on the small plaque.

" _Now_ , please, pull yourself together," Eurus ordered, her brow furrowing as he continued to ignore her. "All those complicated little emotions. I lost count," she continued with a hint of exasperation in her tone, "emotional context, Sherlock. It destroys you _every_ time."

Eurus pursed her lips as he continued to ignore her, he reached out and gently traced the words on the lid. "Why?" he croaked out finally.

"'Why' what, Sherlock? Do be more specific," Eurus answered in a mocking tone.

"Why Molly?" he clarified, turning to face her once more.

John almost gasped at the raw emotion on his friend's face, but Mycroft and Eurus appeared unmoved.

"I was curious," Eurus replied with a small shrug, "you're so _particular_ about who you allow in your life. I wanted to know what made her so special." She made a dismissive gesture, " _I_ couldn't see anything remarkable about her and neither could Jim."

Sherlock's lips curled back in a silent snarl as he turned his back on the screen once more and, for the first time since the explosion, John tore his gaze from Sherlock to glare up at the screen.

"Molly Hooper was the kindest, sweetest... _warmest_ person I have ever known," John spat angrily, "no wonder you don't understand her, how could you? She was everything you so _clearly_ are not."

For a brief moment, Eurus looked almost stung by his words, but that faded quickly as she smiled. "Yes," she said softly, "but now she's dead."

Mycroft and John jumped as Sherlock suddenly swung around with the coffin lid, smashing it violently against the edge of the coffin. Even Eurus looked concerned as he continued to destroy the coffin with a desperation bordering on madness.

"Sherlock? Sherlock, pull yourself together," she ordered, a small note of pleading creeping into her tone.

John moved to intervene, but Mycroft caught his arm and held him back with surprising strength. "Leave him," he counselled at John's questioning look.

Silently, they watched as Sherlock reduced the coffin to a pile of splintered wood and torn linen. John and Mycroft both started as Sherlock suddenly threw his head back and let out an anguished scream.

Staggering back to the wall, Sherlock sank to the ground and covered his face with his hands. John blinked in surprise as Sherlock made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a sob.

"Are you finished?" Eurus asked, sounding a little bored and breaking the silence that had descended.

Sherlock took a deep, heaving breath before looking up at her with a tear stained face. "Not quite," he told her steadily, getting to his feet and scooping up the previously abandoned pistol.

"I think it's time we finished this once and for all, don't you sister dear?" he asked in a mocking tone as he cocked the pistol under his chin.

"Sherlock-" John began, but stopped as Mycroft tightened his hold on him.

"She won't let him die," Mycroft told him in an under tone.

"You don't know that," John hissed.

Mycroft raised an eyebrow, "She's my sister, give me some credit," he replied sardonically.

"What are you doing?" Eurus demanded, looking concerned for the first time.

"No more unnecessary deaths," Sherlock replied calmly, "I'm _finishing_ this. Ten…"

Eurus looked almost panicked, "No, no, Sherlock!"

Sherlock looked unconcerned as he continued counting in a low, emotionless tone: "…Nine…eight…"

"You can't!"

"Seven…"

"You don't know about Redbeard yet."

John glanced at Mycroft as he felt the other man stiffen.

"Six…"

"Sherlock!"

John blinked at Eurus's rising panic as Sherlock continued to calmly count down, "You can't!" Eurus repeated as something whistled through the air.

John let out the breath he didn't realise he'd been holding as he watched Sherlock pause in his counting to pull a dart from his neck. His relief didn't last for long, as he felt a sting in the back of his own neck and everything went black.


	2. Chapter 2

Much later, Sherlock stood off the side with John watching Eurus be led away by police but otherwise oblivious to the cacophony around him.

Now that the stress of trying to save John – and Eurus – was over, the horrible truth of Molly's death washed over him once more.

She was gone.

What the _hell_ was he supposed to do now?

"Sherlock?"

Lestrade shared a concerned look with John as Sherlock made no sign that he'd heard him, "Sherlock?" he tried again.

Sherlock blinked and his eyes slowly focused on the detective's face, "Hmm?" he asked, still obviously distracted.

"I just spoke to your brother."

"How is he?" he asked, his genuine concern for his brother rousing him momentarily from his stupor.

"He's a bit shaken up, that's all," Lestrade assured him. "She didn't hurt him; she just locked him in her old cell."

"What goes around comes around," John commented as Sherlock made no answer.

"Yeah," Lestrade agreed absently, shooting a concerned look at Sherlock who seemed to be lost in his own thoughts once more.

He shot John a questioning look, but the other man could only shrug.

Lestrade looked like he was going to say something more, but he caught sight of something over John's shoulder. "Give me a moment, boys," he murmured as he started to move off.

His words seemed to bring Sherlock back to the present and he half turned, "Mycroft," he began softly, "make sure he's looked after, he's not as strong as he thinks he is."

Lestrade nodded, "Yeah, I'll take care of it."

Sherlock managed a grim smile, "Thanks Greg."

Lestrade and John both looked at him in surprise, but Sherlock didn't notice as he caught sight of what Lestrade had seen.

Or, rather, _who_.

"It can't be," he whispered, walking away.

Lestrade looked at John in surprise as the latter swore under his breath having caught sight of the petite figure amidst the crowd of police and other emergency services personnel.

"Sherlock? Sherlock Holmes, have you seen him? Or John Watson?"

Whatever else the anxious pathologist was going to say was lost as she found herself crushed against the chest of the very consulting detective she'd been looking for.

"Um…Sherlock?" she asked, her voice muffled by his shirt, "Is everything ok?"

"You're alive," Sherlock said with a touch of wonder in his tone as he suddenly pulled back to look her in the face.

Molly blushed and looked away from his intense gaze, "Yes. Of course I am," she looked up at him suddenly in concern, "what happened, Sherlock? Are you ok?"

"I am now," he replied cryptically, still looking at her in unabashed wonder as he rememorised her features.

"Wha-?"

Her question was lost as she was suddenly pulled into a bear hug by John, "Thank God," he said, as they broke apart, looking relieved.

Molly's brow creased in confusion, "Will someone please tell me what's going on?"

"We saw you die," Sherlock explained tightly, grimacing at the memory.

"What?" she asked, not sure if she was more shocked by his words or the fact that he'd suddenly pulled her close once more.

Not that she was going to complain about the latter.

"You didn't answer your phone," Sherlock began but she cut him off.

"I know, I'm sorry," she apologised, pulling back so that she could see his face, "it had been a long day and I was tired. But when I eventually tried to call you back I got no answer, I was so worried I went to see Greg and then when he got your call…" she trailed off with a shudder. "I'm so sorry I wasn't there for you like I promised," she finished, hiding her face against his chest.

"It's not your fault," Sherlock told her levelly, relishing the feel of her in his arms – so undeniably _alive_. "You couldn't have known," he added, absently resting his cheek on the top of her head.

Molly gave a short laugh, "But I _should_ have known that a call from _you_ would never be _ordinary_."

John cleared his throat, earning a glare from Sherlock as Molly suddenly realised what she was doing and broke away from him. "Sorry," John said, feeling self-conscious and _very_ contrite at having to break up the reunion. "But Greg will be wanting a statement," he continued, "we should…" he trailed off and nodded in the direction of the nearest police car.

Sherlock scowled but nodded his assent. Satisfied, John gave a short nod and started to lead the way to where Lestrade stood waiting for them.

He wasn't surprised to find that Sherlock had brought a bewildered looking Molly along with him, although he did raise his eyebrows to see him holding her hand.

"Molly's coming too," Sherlock stated baldly, his imperious tone belied by the almost petulant look on his face as he tugged her closer to him.

"Of course," Lestrade replied, as he and John valiantly tried to hide their smiles.

Sherlock chose to ignore their reaction as he opened the car door and followed Molly inside.

 **...**

 **A/N: Well, she couldn't actually die, Eurus said she hadn't rigged the apartment. But I figured she wouldn't be above faking it for torture-y purposes.**


	3. Chapter 3

" _So, it's for somebody who loves somebody."  
"It's for somebody who loves _Sherlock _…So who loves you? I'm assuming it's not a long list."_

His brother had been right, it wasn't a long list. In fact, the list of people who loved him was only marginally longer than the list of people _he_ loved.

Molly Hooper was at the top of both.

A fact that had been completely lost on him until he thought she was dead.

Oh, he knew that she _mattered_. He even knew that she mattered _most._ But he'd had no idea just _how much_ she mattered until he thought he'd lost her.

His world had shattered in that moment and he'd had a small insight into how John had felt when he'd lost Mary. Only his grief was compounded with the even more painful knowledge that he'd never told her…anything.

He'd never told her how he really felt and, in many ways, the miracle wasn't that she was still alive it was that she was still in his life at all. His fear of his own growing feelings for her had caused him to belittle her own and to continuously brush her aside, yet he'd been unable to stay away from her and absolutely unwilling to share her.

Hence his other great sin against her: how he'd always carefully and systematically destroyed every relationship she'd had since he'd known her. Always defending his interference as saving her from greater heartache down the track but, really, he'd just not wanted to lose her.

Especially now that he'd had a taste of what that would feel like.

Unfortunately, now that it had come to the point, he had absolutely no idea how he was going to tell her. He didn't do _feelings_ or _sentiment_ and he wasn't so sure that he wanted to start now.

Sherlock was broken from his thoughts as movement near the doorway caught his eye, "Where are you going?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you," Molly apologised, looking a little guilty as she finished collecting her things. "I thought you were in your Mind Palace, so I was going to let myself out." She paused, "Did you need anything?"

"You."

Sherlock resisted the urge to kick himself over his bluntness as the pair stared at each other for a long moment.

"I beg your pardon?" Molly asked finally.

"I just need _you_ ," Sherlock told her, deciding bluntness was the best policy as he looked her straight in the eye. "Don't leave. Don't leave _me_ ," he got slowly to his feet, still holding her gaze, "please."

Molly made a nervous motion with her hand, "I don't understand."

"I thought I'd lost you today and I couldn't bear it," Sherlock explained, speaking softly and moving slowly towards her, "I'm not good with sentiment, Molly, but…could you stay?" he asked, stopping just outside of her personal space, "I just want…I just _need_ to know that you're safe."

Molly nodded slowly, "Ok."

"Ok?" Sherlock repeated, unsure whether he'd heard her correctly.

She smiled ruefully as she shrugged a shoulder, "I told you, you'll always have me," she reminded him, removing her coat as further confirmation of her intention.

He still looked unsure, "Always?"

"Always," she repeated firmly putting her coat aside.

That one word was all the encouragement Sherlock needed to pull her close, Molly bit her lip as she peeped up at his face.

"You…um, are you sure that you're ok with this?" she asked after a moment.

"With what?"

"Hugging," Molly clarified, "you've been doing that a lot lately."

Sherlock thought for a moment, "Well, I'm in shock and no one gave me a blanket."

Molly looked down to hide a smile, "I see."

"So you may have to stay for a while," he added, feigning nonchalance as she looked back up at him, "to aid my recovery."

"I'm not going anywhere, Sherlock," she told him seriously.

"Good," Sherlock replied with a satisfied nod, pulling her close once more, "because I don't want you to."

This time Molly didn't bother to hide her smile as he rested his cheek against the top of her head. "I don't want to go either," she whispered, returning his embrace.

She felt, rather than saw, his answering smile.


End file.
